


Swan's Song

by WittyWallflower



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Music, Open Mic, Singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Granny's hosts an open mic night, which prompts a serenade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Granny stood at the counter of her diner, staring glumly into space. Behind her glazed eyes she was superficially aware if what was before her: the clean, brightly lit restaurant, the diners with their subdued chatter but pleasant faces, the sun streaming through the blinds. But none of it registered on her conscious mind, not until a presence slid onto a stool near her, she felt eyes on her face and finally blinked her mental fog away, turning to regard the newcomer.

Perched on the other side of the counter, regarding her evenly with almost-disguised curiosity, was young Henry Mills. What was his last name anyway now that he didn't remember his adoptive mother? Did the false memories Regina planted in his head make him think of himself as Henry Swan? Or maybe Emma now “remembered” putting the father’s name on the birth certificate? Henry Cassidy, perhaps? When she saw it was him her spine straightened as she schooled herself. Damn foolish, she knew. She couldn't possibly give anything a way with a blank stare, but she certainly wasn't going to be the one to cause a headache for Emma by letting it slip to Henry that the entire town knew him far better than he thought.

"Hello there." Granny greeted him with a cordial smile, trying not to be too familiar with this boy. 

No, this young man now. Once upon a time he had spent many hours in one another of her booths reading,working on homework, playing games with Ruby or bonding with one of his mothers. Now she had to pretend he was a stranger. Pretend she didn't notice the extra inches he had gained in a year or the baby fat he had lost that was turning his soft features into strong features that favored his father.

"Meeting someone for dinner? I can make you up a cup of cocoa while you wait."

"That’s okay, I’m fine." Henry said, waving the offer aside, "unless… Do you have a cappuccino machine?"

Granny raised an eyebrow at him, taken aback once more by how quickly he was growing up. His voice was deeper and he was more confident when he spoke.  
"Aren't you a bit young for coffee?" She asked.

A sly grin spread across his face, “Can you be sure of that? You don’t know how old I am.” He pointed out.

Granny froze for a moment, worried she’d been caught out but the mischief on his face made her unwind. He may not remember being any other way but it warmed Granny’s heart to see Henry the carefree troublemaker a young boy ought to be. She had to chuckle at his new audacity.

"I've got eyes to see with, boy, and I can see you’re not a man grown. When your mother says you can have one, I’ll make you one but not before." She said, smiling for half a moment to temper her acerbic tone.

Henry rolled his eyes but had to smile in return. He hadn't really expected to get away with it. While Emma had occasionally let him sample the wares of a few New York coffee shops he knew she wouldn't approve of him drinking it casually. A sip of her latter was different from a cappuccino of his own. Caffeine stunts you growth, she would say and tease him about growing up to join the Knicks.   
Granny turned aside, grabbing a cloth to wipe the already immaculate counter-top. In her efforts to appear nonchalant, she forced her mind away from him and her thoughts quickly fell into thinking about the missing year. No matter how she tried to probe her memory she couldn’t draw out a single detail and that made her worry. Anything might have happened. She could be surrounded by newly-made enemies at any moment with no telling when they might get their memories back and decide to come after her.   
Once again lost in her thoughts her hand moved by its own volition; sharp-eyed Henry didn’t fail to notice that Granny was wiping the same spot of counter-top over and over again, polishing it to a shine. He had learned a lot from his mother, including how to read people. And he could tell Granny was miles away. The deep wrinkles between her eyebrows told him something was bothering her.

"Is… is everything okay?" His voice, cracking once from the strain of his body’s transition from boyhood to manhood, drew her out of her reverie.  
"Of course!" She responded automatically and tried to turn the subject. "Change your mind about that cocoa?"

Henry pursed his lips in annoyance and added Granny to the list of adults in this town who wouldn't give him a straight answer. So far that was most of them. He wondered if the kids who lived in Storybrooke were taken in by the weak lies. At least his mother usually didn't outright lie to him. When she couldn't be honest she usually promised to explain when the time was right.

"It’s okay, you can tell me." He tried again. "My mom says I’m a good listener."

His earnest face looking up at her was hard to ignore, but there really was no way you could tell him the truth.

"Oh, it’s nothing, just feelin’ a bit restless. Probably just the change of season making me antsy. Need a bit of excitement is all." Right, because Storybrooke never sees any excitement. She almost choked on the cheerful falsehood.

Henry meanwhile was heroically suppressing a scoff at the idea of excitement in Storybrooke. He knew the world wasn't like Manhattan but so far he hadn't witnessed so much as a traffic accident on the quiet streets of the bucolic town. Even the alley behind the local bar was clean and free of drunks sleeping off last night’s bender. Sometimes he appreciated the quiet, but sometimes the town was boring. But he couldn't be unkind, so he glanced around groping for something polite to say.

“My mom always say springtime is the best time for change. Maybe that's what you need! New curtains or tablecloths or something.” Henry's eye's settled on a corner of the diner. It was an awkward corner to have a table in, tucked back out of the way against a wall with no windows. An idea occurred to him. “Hey, do you like music?”

.x.x.x.x.

“No way, come on Granny, it's perfect!” Ruby's voice was loud in protest.

“I just don’t know if that’s what people want while they are trying to eat their meatloaf.” Granny said.

:”It's only one night a week, a few hours. Anyone who doesn't like it can just come to dinner before or after. But it would make the town more cheerful!” Henry said, countering her concerns.

“And you think we need cheering up are here, do ya?” Granny lowered her head, looking at Henry over the rim of her glasses.

“Well,” he said sheepishly, “everyone around here seems really serious a lot of the time. My mom is always off helping someone with something she cant tell me about.” He paused for a moment then asked what had been on his mind. “Are a lot of people in trouble?”

Ruby met Granny's eyes over Henry's head. When he started asking questions, it was time to steer him towards something else. He was a smart kid and with the investigative talents he had picked up from his mother it was getting hard to keep things hidden from him. No one in town liked lying to him but lately they had bigger concerns than rewriting Henry's entire life out from under him, at least the one he remembered.

“No,” Ruby said, interjecting smoothly to cover for Granny. “No trouble. There's just too many boring adults around here.” She winked at him and Granny's scowl in response was only partly feigned for his benefit. Ruby turned back to her and picked up their original topic. “He's right, anyone who doesn't like it will just come to dinner later. Its not like there's many options in this town. You, we, wont lose any business.” 

Henry grinned at Ruby's snark and turned his most persuasive expression on Granny. “Come on”, he cajoled her. “You know its a good idea..”

“Oh do I?” Granny raised an eyebrow. Before she could respond to his cheeky sense of assurance Mayor Mills appeared behind him. 

“I'm sure if young Henry here is responsible for it, it must be a great idea.” Regina smiled down at her lost son, trying to maintain her composure. It was hard to look down into the face of the child she had raised and see only the polite attention one would afford a stranger. “Your mother tells me you are quite the problem solver, full of creative solutions.”

Henry shrugged, not wanting to appear childish by bragging to the most important woman in town. 

“No need to be modest.” Regina said, placing her handbag on the counter and taking a seat next to him. “What grand scheme have you concocted for Granny here?” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “Maybe I can help you talk her into it.”

As Henry laid out his plan for Granny's a warm glow filled Regina Mills. He may not remember any of her mothering but he had been her son for most of his life. She couldn’t believe that his steadfast heart and keen mind weren't due in part to her, even buried under false memories. His plan was well thought out, easily executed, and was something that never would have occurred to anyone who had grown up in the Enchant Forest or even here in Storybrooke. New York had expanded his world view but it hadn’t changed his spirit. The part of Regina's heart that had been wild with worry for him since the day he rode out of town in the yellow bug started to quiet finally. She had never doubted that Emma would look after him but... any world is full of dangers.

“They do it all the time in coffee-shops back home,” Henry was elaborating. “It makes people want to stay longer and then they spend more so it would be good for business too!”

“Well, I think it is a wonderful idea.” Regina said. “No one else would have thought of it but I think an Open Mic night would be great. Give the good people of Storybrooke a chance to showcase their talents.”

Now it was Granny's turn to suppress a scoff. Two curses and not a single election later and Regina Mills still sat as Mayor of Storybrooke. Despite being ousted from office the last time they were in this world. It appears old habits died hard. Still, Granny couldn't fault the woman for wanting her son to think well of her, even if he didn’t know who she was. This idea of his was a sight less bloody than some of the ways Regina had attempted to bond with Henry. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt a thing to try it,” Granny said, capitulating at last. Before Henry and Ruby could cheer she went on. “Only for a week or two, mind. If people don’t like it we forget about it. Now, it was your idea young man, you are going to help me get it set up and spread the word so people know about it.”

“Yeah!” Henry cried enthusiastically. Adults didn't usually listen to his ideas back home; he was just another kid for them to shuffle off to school, off to debate club, off to bed. Besides, playing video games in the room all day while his mom was busy was starting to get boring. 

“I'll help too and mention it at the next city council meeting. If there is any trouble getting performers I'm sure I could lean on a few people.” Regina volunteered.

The slight quirk of her lips that accompanied the offer did not body well for any bards that had been caught up in the curse, Granny thought. 

“C'mon Henry, I've got some gel pens around here somewhere. We can make a poster to hang on the door.” Ruby ushered Henry to a booth where they could draw in peace. Regina's eyes followed them and Granny saw the tiny sigh that escaped her.


	2. Chapter 2

The debut open mic night wasn't what Henry or Emma would deem a success but the locals did seem to enjoy themselves. Attendance was largely Granny's regulars showing up for their usual dinnertime, only peripherally aware the event was scheduled. Snow and Charming were there with their inner circle for support naturally, but only two performers had signed up. 

One was a young girl, Grace. Emma had seen nothing of her father, Jefferson, since the return to Storybrooke but didn't hold that to be unfortunate. She had heard from Mary Margaret that Grace was still attending school and seemed quite happy to have her papa back. Grace knew that Henry didn't remember her or anything about his life, but when she heard him talking about tonight she had volunteered. Then she and Henry would have something to talk about that had nothing to do with the past. 

She was unlucky enough to be the first performer and Emma could tell she was daunted by it as the young girl took her place in the performance area. Grace's toes were turned in and she scuffed them awkwardly as she stood before them. But she was a brave little thing and squared her shoulders. She announced she was going to sing a song she had learned in school and a lullaby her father sang to her. The first song was a silly rhyming song of the quasi-educational variety. Emma questioned the accuracy of some of its facts but knew the tune was catchy enough she'd probably be singing it in the shower tomorrow morning. 

The lullaby was another matter. Grace's voice was sweet and clear, untrained but earnest as she sang the lyrics of a fairy tale Emma had never heard. Snow recognized the melody though, a lullaby of the woodsfolk who had often sheltered her when she had been an outlaw. She had heard it enough times that the words came back to her easily. Had things turned out differently for everyone, she might have sang it to baby Emma in her crib one day. A hand idly stroked her rounded belly at the sad thought. With this child she was determined to have the chance.

When the song was over, Grace spread the pleats of her school uniform skirt and dipped an awkward curtsy before running back to her booth. Henry left his seat in the booth next to it to smile at her and sat beside her to congratulate the performance. Emma had to look away to hide her smile as the girl blushed prettily. 

The second performer was clearly more at ease in front of a crowd. He took his place with an engaging smile and a compliment for the performer who had preceded him. Grace's lullaby, he told them, had brought to mind another from their land. As he spoke he pulled a well-worn leather pack from his back and drew from it what Emma could only describe as a lute. It resembled a guitar in some ways but there was no mistaking it as anything but an item from the Enchanted Forest. Emma wondered if it had come over with him in the curse or if he'd found it in Gold's shop along with apparently every other item of significance or magic the locals had ever possessed. 

He strummed the instrument as he sang the lullaby, another Snow recognized and told herself to remember for the months ahead after her baby came. The singer was skilled, with a rich strong voice, and accompanied himself adeptly. As the last chords of the soft and mellow song died away he launched into a new tune, jauntier than the one before. He didn't announce the song but as he began to sing Emma looked around and noticed more than few knowing smiles and nods of recognition. Her own mother was beaming.

“It's a harvest song” Snow said when Emma's face requested explanation. “Every child old enough to speak in our land knows this song. Even those who never in their lives worked a day in the fields have danced to it at harvest festivals and balls.”

The singer left his corner and strode amongst the diners, encouraging people to join into the last verse of his song with smiles and gestures made with his elbows as his fingers strummed the faster melody. Only a few in the small crowd did but Snow's voice rang out above them all. Emma goggled at her mother. She wasn't all that surprised to find her Disney princess of a mother singing a tune, but it had struck her at that moment how differently she now looked at the woman she had once called Mary Margaret. The quiet, good-hearted, but slightly awkward schoolteacher she had been before the original curse had been broken. Emma knew they had both changed a lot from who they were the day they had met.

Recognizing perhaps the most famous person from his homeland, the singer strode over to Snow, finishing the song in harmony with her as he stood beside their booth. As the tune ended he did a silly little jig and gave the royal family a sweeping bow before returning to the corner. He thanks them all most kindly for their attendance to his songs and introduced himself as Al before bidding them good night. 

A light smattering of applause followed him out and as Emma approached the counter to get a refill on her coffee she saw there were many smiles at his performance. A few were a bit sad though. It seemed so unfair for the cursed people to return to their lands, which many had been homesick for, only to end up back in Storybrooke without the slightest comforting memory of their year long visit home. Even beyond the frustration at their ignorance of the events of the past year, there was an emotional toll to losing all that time. Sometimes Snow wanted to cry at the irony of the fact that while she remembered ever moment of her pregnancy with Emma, but had none of her childhood, this child's conception and her early pregnancy were a complete mystery. It made her more determined than ever to see she made every moment of this baby's childhood its own special memory. 

 

When she returned to the booth Regina was there chatting pleasantly with Henry and Grace. Robin was at her side, a sight that was becoming more and more common these dies. Emma arrived in time to hear Henry thanking Regina for finding their second performer. 

“Well, I can't actually take the credit myself.” Regina said, looking at Robin.

“Oh it was no hardship, I assure you. Allin is a good friend who used to...” Robin hesitated, unsure of how much to tell the boy and whether this world even had minstrels.

“...be in a band.” Regina interjected smoothly with the lie when she saw Robin floundering. A toss of her head settled a stray lock of hair back into her usual immaculate style and also served to distract anyone from noticing the cover-up. She had learned some things from her mother.

“They opened for some national tours and he said he missed performing, so Robin mentioned your plan to him.”

“Err, yes” Robin spoke again, “and he mentioned he'd be more than happy to return any time you need a few tunes played.”

“Hear that, kid? First open mic night and you got yourself a regular already.” Emma smiled at her son over the rim of her coffee mug before she took a sip. He returned the smiled in acknowledgment but she could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes as he concocted plans to bring more performers into the fold. Anything that distracted him from his video games for a couple days while her family busy trying to deal with Zelena was probably for the best.


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later while out and about on a shopping expedition Henry was off perusing comic books while Emma was out of her depth trying to pick a baby gift for her little sibling-to-be. In a frenzy of anxious nesting, Snow had outfitted her entire nursery in a single shopping trip so there was no need for a gift registry, they had all the necessary accouterments. The loft was full of accessories and gadgets Emma could only guess at the purpose of. Her own pregnancy in prison had been free of any frills or the finer comforts Snow enjoyed in her castle. A local OB and the prison library's ancient copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting brought Henry into being.

Emma had never before appreciated the convenience of a gift registry. It really took all the thought and decision making out of the gift giving progress. You couldn't go wrong picking something off a list the recipients had written. She wasn't sure about any of this. The baby clothes were covered in visually nauseating pastels and the thought of buying her mother a breast pump was disquieting. She was examining some Disney merchandise, trying to decide if it was funny or going too far, when Killian spotted her and walked over to her. 

“Swan.” his nod was a simple greeting but his smile was warm. If she'd been observant she might have noticed how wide it was, more open and contagious than the smirk he adopted when the charm came out. Observing her preoccupation, he studied the colorful items before him and recognized a symbol upon them.

“Ah. Henry spoke of this Disney storyteller. Perhaps you can show me an image of the impostor Hook with the bad perm that sullies my reputation in your-this land.”

That caught her attention. She raised an eyebrow and turned to face him. 

“Been talking to Henry have you?” she said.

“You needn't worry, Swan.” he raised his hand in a defensive gesture. “We were discussing the entertainment of this world. You yourself had mentioned there are stories of me, can you blame me for being curious?”

“I just don't want him to get suspicious.” she tried not to let herself be mollified by his grin.

“I promise you, Emma, if he starts asking questions it wont be because I talked to him about a story he thinks he grew up with.” he was earnest and she believed him. She knew he disapproved of lying to Henry but she trusted that he wouldn't say anything that might cause a problem. He could see that in her face and tried for a joke to lighten the moment. “I must say its a bloody miracle either of you survived Neverland. You were entirely unprepared for the reality of Peter Pan.”

Her laughter was only a huff, hardly more than an exhalation. But any chink in Emma's armor was a victory. 

“Come, show me my namesake.” he cajoled. 

“Can't.” she said with a wry smile.

“Why ever not, Swan?” he asked.

“Because they only put the heroes on stuff like this,” she waved a hand at the onesies and baby blankets adorned with wide-eyed characters. “I don't know how much Henry told you about the story we have here but.. you're a villain, Hook. Villains don't get their faces on pillows.”

She meant it as a factual statement, not as a reminder of his more dastardly roles in the earlier parts of his story with Emma. He knew that. Still, he dropped his gaze, self consciously scratching behind his ear. He had done evil in his life yes, chosen to be a pirate and plunder the seas. But that had been the poor choices made by a heart fueled by grief and a head fueled by rum. All he had truly desired was to sail the seas with the good wind at his back, under no man's rule, free to chase a cloud that looked like his beloved Milah. But even the pirate's life was not so easy to return to as he had learned. The one last place that offered him solace had failed him, so he'd sold it off and sought the solace of her instead.

“Emma, I-” he began. He wasn't sure what there was to say to counter the weight of all he'd done but he didn't want her to see him a a villain anymore. 

Before he could form a thought, Henry arrive to join them. Emma threw an arm around the lad's shoulder. 

“Ready to go, kid?” She asked him.

“Yeah, can I get these?” Henry held up a handful of comic books. His mother faked a pained expression for a moment before poking him in the side.

“Sure,” she conceded. “Better than rotting your brain with video games.”

“Didn't you find a gift for Mary Margaret?” 

“Everything is kinda lame. I'll think of something though.”

As they turned towards the checkout Henry rolled his eyes at her motherly tone. Emma smiled an apology to Killian for the interruption but truthfully she was glad for the distraction, the excuse to leave. She wasn't sure how to interact with the man without some mission for them to work together on or dangerous quest forcing them to bond by watching out for each other. Before he was a guide or partner. Now he was a man who was interested in her and all her usual strategies for dealing with men who were interested in her didn't seem like options now. They didn't apply outside a dating scene that was foreign to the pirate. Besides she wasn't all that sure she was ready for him to go away.

“Can we stop at a few places next? I need to talk to some people.” Henry said

“Um, sure. Did you make some new friends here?” Emma's tone was confused and no small bit of curious.

“No, well, one. No, I want to ask some people to perform at Granny's next week. The more people the better!”

Their voices drifted back to Killian as they walked away. He sighed, jarred by how effectively he had just been dismissed by Emma. That moment of hesitation after she called him a villain; she'd seen his face fall in response, he'd bet a month's rum ration on it. But she'd said nothing. He knew it was foolish to be jarred by the lack of emotion in her treatment of him. She was a frosty one, his Swan, and despite his considerable prowess and no small amount of pride, he hadn't expected a few kisses to melt that wall of ice. Given their history together, he knew he couldn't blame her. But having lived with his own walls up for so long, and after she had torn them down he had remembered what he had shut out. Love. If anyone deserved to let that in, it was the Savior, who had walked the realm alone for so many years before called to her task to be reunited with her family.


	4. Chapter 4

Dealing with Zelena's impact on the town and letting Regina train her in magic was eating up more of her time than Emma had anticipated. She didn't like to leave Henry with whoever happened to be around every day, but there was too much she couldn't tell him. Too much he could stumble upon if left to wander the town on his own. She wasn't sure yet how she was going to explain being late to meet him and her parents for dinner at Granny's. Jogging down the street to the diner she slowed on approach to catch her breath. The sound of music drifted out to her and she recalled it was open mic night again. She'd half expected the attempt to fizzle by now, but at least it would distract from her late entrance.

 

When she opened the door the noise rose abruptly to a clamor. She stopped in the doorway, taken aback. Throughout the diner most people were singing along with the bard this time. Singing loudly and with varying degrees of skill, many below average. It was like the rejected tryouts for American Idol. Before she could identify the song the voices ended abruptly in laughter and applause. Emma edged around the crowd towards the counter.

 

“Evening, Emma.” Granny greeted her. Emma could swear she looked like she was trying to suppress a smile. “Coffee?”

 

“Please.” Emma said, scanning the diner. “Quite a crowd tonight.”

 

“The boy wasn't wrong about the extra business.” Granny said with a snort. “I'm brewing up my fourth pot of coffee , and between the dwarves, the pirates, and Robin's men, I'll have to tap another keg before long.”

 

Her tone was surly but in the privacy of her own mind Granny had to admit she was having fun. She passed over a mug of hot black coffee and Emma nodded her thanks. When she turned to find Henry, she came to face to face with Hook on his way to speak with her. He stood out amongst the townspeople, still glad in his pirate garb. Though he rarely donned the long leather coat, he still stood out from all the locals in their sweaters and jeans.

 

“Swan.” He smiled, dipping his head in greeting. “I was beginning to wonder if you'd be absent from the entertainment tonight.”

 

“Just had a few things to wrap up. Even without me it looks like there is a big enough audience to please any of the performers.” She blew gently on her coffee and took a sip.

 

“Ah, but you'd miss the most entertaining performer of them all.” Killian cocked an eyebrow and donned that look of swaggering confidence he wore so easily. “Me.”

 

Emma almost spit her coffee out. She managed to swallow it, more or less gracefully and without choking, but all she could do was regard him in disbelief. He chuckled at the suspicion on her face.

 

“It's true.” He said.

 

As if on cue, Henry's voice raised above the noise of the crowd.

 

“Hey Killian, you're next!”

 

“See?.” he smirked at her bafflement.

 

“I uh...I didn't know you could play.” she managed to stammer.

 

“There's a lot you don't know about me, of course I'd be happy to fill you in anytime you care to get more... intimately acquainted.” he said, his tone teasing and his grin cajoling. But the woman was damnably immune to his flirting sometimes. Alas, he'd have to work on that. “Really, Swan. Your land isn't the only one with music. Any sailor worth his salt knows a few tunes. It can get quiet out on the open sea with only the slap of the waves against the hull and the sails snapping in the wind. We learn to make our own instruments from whatever is on hand.”

 

Hook strode off to the corner of the diner and swung on to the stool placed behind the mic. Emma slid into the booth her family sat in. Placing a guitar on his knee, Killian greeted his audience who responded with a smattering of polite applause. Suddenly self-conscious, he scratched beneath his ear. The gesture was so telling sometimes, Emma wondered if he realized he was doing it.

 

“My thanks,” he said to them all, settling the guitar closer to his body and placing his fingers on the fretboard. “Bear with me as I have only just learned this infernal instrument, though we have a few similar things back home. In truth I know many a merry tune from my days at sea but most would not be appropriate for a mixed audience. But if any gentleman here wishes to learn a good wenching song, I shall be glad to trade one for a drink later. But for now, here is a tune I wrote last year on board my ship.”

 

His smile was charming and just a touch self-depreciating as he began to play. At first his head was bowed in concentration watching his hands which, while not particularly adept, were surprisingly good given he only had one whole one for an instrument that tends to require two. The fingers of his good hand moved stiffly but competently over the strings while his other...

 

Emma blinked. Around Henry Killian had taken to wearing a leather gloved stuffed to the appearance of a normal appendage, so as not to scare the boy. But now in place of either was... a hand? No, she looked again, closer.... not a real hand but a wooden one. Jointed wooden fingers held a wooden pick between them. The wood was light enough in color to pass for flesh if you weren't looking directly at it, and the pieces were quite cleverly cut; the grain of the wood looked like the folds and wrinkles that formed around a knuckle.

 

Henry noticed the direction of his mother's intent gaze and leaned across the booth to whisper,

 

“Marco made it for him. There's lots of weird old dolls and stuff in his shop. When I told him about tonight he said he is tone deaf but volunteered to help anyway. I didn't know what to use him for until Killian confessed why he hadn't signed up to perform. Neat, isn't it? Marco found that guitar in his workshop too and fixed it up.”

 

Emma made a mental note to ask Killian what story he'd told Henry to explain the missing hand and marveled at the ingenuity of the three men. How long had they been organizing this musical debut? But soon she was distracted when Hook's voice rang out through the diner. It was low and soulful, of average quality but still a perfect counterpoint to the twang of the strings. The tune itself was simple and mellow; she could picture him composing it while lounging in the rigging of his ship, a light breeze tousling his hair and carrying his words off across the waves.

 

“ _You know love feels like an ocean_ ,” he sang,

“ _ever changing as it flows._

_And a lover is just a vessel_

_that must follow where it goes._

_Trying to learn from what's behind you_

_and never knowing what's to come_

_makes each day a constant battle_

_just to sail before the storm._ ”

 

The entire diner stopped to watch and listen. They had politely listened to all performers, ceasing their chatter when appropriate or joining in where encouraged, but now all forks were down and all heads were turned. They had all heard better performers, singers with more natural talent, players with more practiced skill. But there was something genuine in Hook's voice as he sang. An earnestness. As he launched into the chorus, the heartfelt lyrics made Snow smile and slip her hand into David's. Through all the years they had known each other other, all the troubles they had faced and separations they had had to endure... every love song still made her think of her prince Charming.

 

 

Emma didn't notice the affection between her parents, or nor did she notice anything else. Her focus was tuned entirely to Killian. She knew this song wasn't chosen casually, it was a message to her. Every note, every strum of the guitar strings thrummed through the air and seemed to vibrate down into her bones. It called to her body to move, to sway, but her control over herself was rigid, strong from long practice. Still, she couldn't look away.

 

Falling into the rhythm of playing Killian gathered his courage and finally raised his eyes from the instrument. They immediate locked with hers. His Swan. The world seemed to shrink around them and he forgot every other soul in place.

 

 

“ _Too many times we stand aside_

_and let the waters slip away,_

_letting what happened in our past_

_keep us from today_

 

 

He seemed to be singing to her and her alone. A unique experience for Emma. For so long she had avoided getting close enough to people to inspire any sense of devotion in anyone. People stopped offering affection when she couldn't bring herself to accept it. She who had rarely ever had a second date was now being serenaded by an earnest-looking man.

 

“ _So don't you sit upon the shoreline_

_and claim you're satisfied_

_choose to chance the rapids_

_and dare to dance the tide_.”

 

Finally as the chorus began again their eye contact broke. He dropped his eyes back to his hands, wondering how much his face had revealed against his will. He didn't get to be a famous pirate without playing things close to the vest. But that was hard with Emma before him, hearing his song. He had fought the memories of her for half a year, trying to scorn love as a weakness, but she was too firmly rooted within him. The song had become a solace and a distraction from the fact that she remembered nothing of him, that they were strangers who were worlds away from each other. Killian had never intended to sing it for any audience beside the wind and waves. But now his voice grew strong; he wanted her to hear every word, to understand.

 

When he finally released Emma from his gaze, she drew a shaky breath. Only a few moments had passed but it felt like hours she had been held in his thrall. She shook herself and settled back against her seat. She glanced around surreptitiously to see if she had been caught staring like a teenybopper at a boy band concert. No one seemed to be watching her but David look slightly nonplussed and Henry's smile was suspiciously serene. She scrubbed damp palms against her jeans and reached out for a swallow of water to wet her suddenly-dry throat.

 

Killian's eyes tried to catch hers again but she stubbornly refused to meet them again, surveying the room with studied nonchalance. But she couldn't escape the words and the rhythm seeping into her.

 

“ _There's bound to be rough waters_

_lord knows I've seen some sorrow_

_but with a good lass as my First Mate_

_I could make it to tomorrow_. “

 

 

His playing ceased as he sang the final chorus, accompanied only by his good hand softly tapping out a beat against the body of the guitar. Though sung low, his accented words seemed to fill the room before dying away on the last beat.

 

“ _Yes I will sail my vessel_

_till the oceans run dry_

_like a bird upon the wind_

_these waters are my sky_.”

 

The applause broke the spell over them both. Killian turned a winning smile on the other diners, one that no doubt won him a few female hearts. Emma, still studiously looking in any other direction but his, noticed Ruby fanning herself with her hand as she leaned against the counter. When Granny poked her in the elbow to prod her back to work Ruby straightened and complied while casting glances at Killian over her shoulder. Suddenly Emma decided she didn't have an appetite after all.

 

When he set his guitar down a few diners approached him to comment on his song and crowd of chattering townspeople soon surrounded him. When Smee shouldered his way through with a pint for himself and one for his captain, Emma took advantage of the moment's distraction. Mumbling some excuse to her family, she slipped out of the booth and left Granny's. Stepping out into the twilight she inhaled the cool air deeply and it felt like the first breath she had taken in hours. Being around him made her tense. Or was is breathless? Part of her hoped to avoid learning the answer to that question. Life was complicated enough.

 

Inside Smee offered a toast to his captain's successful performance. With a laugh Hook quaffed his pint. Licking the ale from his upper lip he turned to find his Swan, curious to learn what she thought of his song. A bit nervous as well if he was honest with himself.

 

Her seat was empty. The others in her booth gave him encouraging smiles; Henry offered him the gesture of two raised thumbs and Hook made a mental note to teach the boy a proper salute. The princess caught his eye and held it. Snow inclined her head towards the door and offered him a sad smile. She knew what it was when a woman pushed a man away. It had taken her long enough to accept Charming into her life. It hurt to watch her daughter throw so many chances for happy moments aside by insisting on keeping others at bay, behind the walls she built to protect her heart.

 

Killian sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand. The damnable woman really was a headache at times. He longed to chase after her. Force her to react to him in some way, any way, instead of holding him at bay. But after that performance she had the upper hand, and he wasn't sure if he could escape an encounter with her unscathed. He felt oddly exposed, an odd and unnatural feeling for a man of his reputation, he decided. Turning back to Smee, he adopted a carefree smile and lifted his empty glass.

 

“Another!” He roared jovially and was met with cries of approval from his men.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Garth Brooks whose song 'The River' I shamelessly mutilated for the sake of my self-indulgent desire for OTP feels.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey Mary Margaret,” Emma greeted her mother as she entered the loft. She glanced around and found the other woman alone with a basket of clean laundry. “Where's Henry? I thought we'd see what movies are out before dinner.”

“Killian was going to teach him some sailors' knots. They're probably down at the docks if you want to find them.”

Emma shifted her weight, betraying her unease at that idea. She picked up one of the shirts from the basket and folded it, more for something to do with herself than any real urge to assist. She tossed the garment on top of the pile of folded items ready for the bureau.

Snow raised an eyebrow at the sloppily folded garment, picking it up and tidying it as she studied her daughter out of the corner of her eye. Emma was avoiding her gaze.

“You're avoiding him.” Snow observed.

“What? No, I'm just...” Emma caught herself protesting and realized the trap her mother had set. “Why would I avoid Herny, I just said I was looking for him.”

Snow rolled her eyes. Emma had known exactly who she was talking about, which meant she had been thinking about Killian. She ignored Emma's attempt at innocent confusion; she wouldn't dignify the lie with a response.

“He's not going to sail away this time, you won't be able to avoid him forever. We all live in this town. I hate to see you push him away after all he's done to help you, to help all of us. ”

 

“You know, in the after school specials the mother is supposed to warn the daughter away from the bad boy with the guitar, not encourage her to pursue him.” Emma said, voice acerbic, as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Since when are you such a fan of pirates?”

“I'm not, and I know how often he's taken the wrong side. But after what he did for your father, I owe him so much. And Emma... he loves you. As someone who loves you too, that's all I need to know to believe that he can change.”

Emma looked dubious. Her mother was straight out of a fairy tale, the princess of naivete. In the real world, people didn't fall in love at first sight with a perfectly compatible and utterly virtuous partner the way her parents had done. Love didn't turn a villain into a hero. Snow didn't understand her daughter's cynical resistance. After everything she had seen, how could Emma continue to doubt the power of a real connection between two people?

“True Love can change people, Emma. Look at Regina. Her love for Henry changed everything for her. She stopped being evil. She made friends, she even gave her heart to a man for the first time since Daniel.” The unspoken words hung in the air. If the Evil Queen could open herself up to love, surely Emma was capable of it as well.

“It wasn't like she flicked a lightswitch and left the Dark Side. She relapsed. Repeatedly. And she hurt a lot of people in the process.” Emma pointed out.

“And you're what, worried Hook will relapse? That he'll go back to seeking revenge against Rumplestiltskin? I have to say I can't see that happening.” Snow replied. “And when a person is making an honest effort to change for the better, the worst thing you can do is keep reminding them of their past.”

For some reason, the idea of Hook turning did sound absurd when said aloud. Why was that? He had spent centuries fixated on that revenge, tried to use Emma herself to get closer to it on more than one occasion. But she didn't think he could tolerate being in the same room with Rumplestiltskin now if he hadn't truly let it go. Even if Hook still harbored a grudge, with Cora gone and Regina on their side there was no way for him to do any damage. He didn't even have his ship.

Yet she still felt threatened by him. Emma drew a deep breath and forced herself to confront the reasons why. She didn't fear him because he was a pirate, because she thought he would turn evil and endanger her loved ones. She feared him because he endangered her heart. Opening herself up to Henry's love had been hard enough for her but in comparison to this is was the easiest thing she had ever done. Henry was the one person she had never feared rejection from. She'd grown up with feelings of abandonment and rejection. Intellectually she knew now that she had never been forgotten or unwanted, she knew why her parents couldn't be there to raise her. But emotionally it took longer for that knowledge to sink in.

 

.x.x.x.x.

“You've been avoiding me, Swan.”

She had seen him approaching and was turning away when he spoke, turning to do just that, avoid him. Turning back, she stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. She tried for a nonchalant smile but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. His words echoed her mothers and brought back the conversation the two women had had about the man now standing before her, looking earnest and if she was honest very appealing.

“What makes you think that?” she said, trying too hard to sound casual.

“Come, lets be honest with each other, love.” His voice held a little impatience “We've worked side by side since your return, but I've not seen you these days. With no immediate threat to your life you've no use for me, is that it?”

“No, I just-” she started but he cut her off.

“Then its something else. have I offended you?”

“No.” She said but nothing more, to his great frustration. She wasn't sure what to say, what she was ready to admit. And he couldn't read her silence.

“Then what is it, Swan? Tell me.” He stepped closer, his eyes intent on hers, and his good hand grasped her elbow urgently. His brow knit as a thought occurred to him. “Have you decided you can't trust a pirate after all?”

He said the word pirate as if it left a bad taste in his mouth and she was startled at the reminder of how much her opinion mattered to him. The knowledge, and his nearness, left her mouth dry and she licked her lips. His gaze flickered to them and a muscle beneath his jaw clenched but his eyes were soon back on her face.

“No, Hook, its not...” she managed, but that was the wrong thing to say. He released her and stepped back.

_Bloody Hook_ , he thought. He'd spent a year trying to be the pirate he had been before he knew her, the cutthroat she would always believe him to be. It had been futile. Evidently, as were his attentions to Emma. He couldn't go back to the man he was before, and he could never be the man she wanted him to be because it seemed she wanted no man. Had he really ever believed the pirate would be worthy the princess? A part of him wanted to rebel. Emma Swan had trusted him with her life, she had trusted him with her son. Even her parents had expressed faith in him. Killian knew her heart could be won. But would his own survive further attempts?

Emma saw the flash of pain on his face before he turned away. She wanted to reach out, to stop him, to tell him... she didn't know what she wanted to say to him. And that held her back.

As he stalked off, Killian tried not to compare these feelings to the sensations he had experienced before when his father abandoned him, when Baelfire rejected him. Her emotional walls aside, it wasn't Swan's fault that he had a past full of evil deeds that she couldn't overlook. Not the Savior, product of True Love and child of the most wholesome, rosy-cheeked twosome in three realms.


End file.
